senryu set

 high treason: he says he hates candy corn 

washing laundry passion in his laughter 

fear of the unknown, coldness of every doorknob 

browsing new books, there's things i aint reassured about

stone saints their indifference louder than chainsaws

new tattoo on his neck i crave chocolate right now 

five years dead, moman's laughter fading in my memories 

indian summer nothing about outside captures my focus

actively listening    still ive heard nothing 

given a man's phone number tonight's train late 

no punctuation in my senryu i dismiss the red flags 

potted azaleas—something made up trying to be clever

now forty-two too acquainted wit loneliness's taste